


To All The Girls (And Boys) He's Loved Before

by exandriantrashpanda (topothesia)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series) RPF
Genre: F/M, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical References, M/M, Multi, crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 02:48:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15524397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topothesia/pseuds/exandriantrashpanda
Summary: The prompt: "He's an eldritch immortal possibly vampiric being with a talent for being in the right place at the right time, so of course Tal's had it on with Shakespeare. Of course he has. As well as a formidable list of other prominent historical figures. This list and the situations to which it alludes is recounted in detail to a present day partner (or partners)." Really don't think I can describe it any better than that.





	To All The Girls (And Boys) He's Loved Before

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt at the Critical Kink Meme: "He's an eldritch immortal possibly vampiric being with a talent for being in the right place at the right time, so of course Tal's had it on with Shakespeare. Of course he has. As well as a formidable list of other prominent historical figures. This list and the situations to which it alludes is recounted in detail to a present day partner (or partners)." I was going to say this is the weirdest thing I've written, but it doesn't even come close, and at least this one made my search history look particularly wholesome.

No matter what they get up to during their time with him -- and they are an inventive lot -- Taliesin’s partners all agree that the best part of their time is afterwards. Because afterwards is when they’re sprawled out together, pleasantly dazed and sated, and he strokes their hair or any other bits of them within reach and eventually tells them a story.

One time Liam jokingly quotes some Shakespeare at him (“Tongue, not a word!/Come trusty sword”) and Taliesin says “Now he was fun in bed. Well, when we had time to get to a bed. Such a busy bee, that fellow.”

Liam looks up at Taliesin, who seems as serious as one can be when one is naked and has _we-just-fucked_ hair sticking up at all angles and a bruise developing on one’s collarbone, and thinks he can’t be serious… but finally says, “Oh, please do tell me about getting it on with Shakespeare,” and laughs.

“Well, as long as you won’t be jealous,” Taliesin says.

“He died over four hundred years ago,” Liam says, thinking _As you should have as well, if this weren’t some sort of joke..._

“Well,” Taliesin says, shifting position and pulling Liam closer, “I originally met him through Kit Marlowe -- but that’s a completely different story. But Will was horrendously busy -- busy like our Matthew is busy, if that gives you any idea. But I just kept showing up where he was on some trifling errand or another, and eventually my roguish charm won him over or he wanted me to stop interrupting him while he was writing. In any case, it’s too bad about that one sonnet that got covered in ink when I swept the desk off so I could bend him over it. He said he never could reconstruct it as I’d tupped the memory clean out of his head.”

Liam laughs quietly into Taliesin’s chest. “And what about Marlowe?” Liam asks half-sleepily as Taliesin continues to stroke his hair and back.

“Marlowe, well...he was troubled. Such a pity how his story ended. But oh, what a fine tongue,” Taliesin continues.

Liam lifts his head and quirks an eyebrow at Taliesin.

“In so many ways,” Taliesin says archly, kissing Liam briefly on the lips before pulling Liam’s head back down to his chest and regaling him with the details of making out with Marlowe in a filthy alley behind a tavern after Marlowe had just accused him of being a foreign spy as Liam slowly drifts off to sleep.

Taliesin remembers that Liam usually wants to hear stories about the theater, and so when they get together, he works his way through some of the portions that part of The List: Richard Sheridan, David Garrick, Sarah Siddons, Joseph Grimaldi, Henry Irving, Oscar Wilde, August Strindberg, Louisa Drew, Vesta Tilley… it’s good to have an audience for them again. The part where Liam also occasionally requests dramatic re-enactments of some of those scenes is also a nice bonus.

***

One time Taliesin and Marisha are relaxing after a particularly good romp on a winter afternoon. As the early sunset light drifts in through the blinds and the sweat dries on their skin, they’re idly chatting about character development and which historical figures and characters they’re drawing from in creating their new campaign characters.

Taliesin says, “Well, there’s a bit of Barnum in mine, but when I actually met him I guess it was the other way around.”

Marisha gives Taliesin the same are-you-fucking-with-me look that Liam gave him.

Taliesin gives her the same blandly serious look that he gave Liam and says, “Oh, like you wouldn’t have wanted to find out what the greatest showman had in his pants.”

Marisha laughs and sighs before flopping her head down on his shoulder and saying, “Fine, immortal beloved, tell me the story already.”

Taliesin begins slowly working his fingers through Marisha’s curtain of hair while recounting a particularly inventive moment he’d had with the showman involving some creative uses of acrobatic silks that was unfortunately interrupted by the lion tamer needing their urgent assistance.

Later, Marisha murmurs sleepily into his chest, “So, like, have you slept with lots of famous dead people? What about kings and queens?”

“Like who? Cleopatra? Julius Caesar? Mary, Queen of Scots? Marie Antoinette? Where shall I begin?” Taliesin says, continuing to stroke Marisha’s hair.

“Oh, start somewhere on the list and work your way down,” Marisha mumbles slurrily, already drifting off.

“Well, for starters, I was the one who taught Cleopatra that carpet trick which eventually won her Caesar,” Taliesin begins. “Always thought it was an awfully uncomfortable way to sneak into someone’s bedroom though. Far easier to just get invited…”

The next time they’re twined together in the afterglow, Marisha says, “So tell me about another dead emperor,” and Taliesin is happy to oblige. Barnum may have boasted of being the toast of the crowned heads of Europe, but Taliesin has given and/or gotten head from more of them than Barnum ever did.

***

“Marisha says I should ask you for a story,” Matt says one time after he and Taliesin have just taken advantage of the rare convergence of an unexpectedly early flight combined with early check in to a hotel room on the day before a convention and are contentedly naked with nowhere to go for several hours.

“A story about what, pray tell? I know lots of stories,” Taliesin says, scratching Matt’s back gently until he purrs.

“She said you’ve been telling her all about the lords and ladies you’ve gotten it on with,” Matt says.

“What, at the RenFaire?” Taliesin says, laughing.

Matt raises his head and looks at Taliesin. “You know what I mean.”

Taliesin mock-sighs obligingly and says, “Well, I can’t cause marital discord by telling Marisha about all the girls and boys I’ve loved before and not you. Do you have a preference for century?”

“You didn’t fuck Hamilton, did you?” Matt asks, his laugh muffled as Taliesin pulls him closer and begins to stroke his hair.

“Hamilton? No, our paths didn’t cross in that particular way,” Taliesin says. “Washington wasn’t interested, either. But Franklin…there was an inventive fellow.”

Matt groans at the pun and punches Taliesin playfully on the arm. Taliesin captures Matt’s arm and rolls him over, pinning him to the bed, which leads to a brief interlude where neither of them are doing much talking at all.

“You didn’t really...did you? I mean, Ben Franklin? Early to bed and early to rise? Farmer’s Almanac Ben Franklin?” Matt asks when they settle back down.

Taliesin just raises his eyebrows and says “Oh, there was some rising, all right -- early and late and all the hours in between,” and Matt laughs.

“He was an interesting fellow,” Taliesin continues, pulling Matt close again. “It wasn’t always about bed sport, although we had plenty of that. But the way he saw the world -- that was unique. So many ideas; so many projects. And the man could tell a story…”

“So you’ve always gone for storytellers?” Matt asks.

“My tastes are as wide and varied as the sea, but I definitely have gone for the storyteller in this bed right now,” Taliesin says, kissing the top of Matt’s head.

“Tell me about some more bards you’ve bedded then, O Muse,” Matt says, snuggling close to Taliesin.

Taliesin smiles into Matt’s hair and says, “Hm. Bards other than Sam…but, speaking of Franklin, did I tell you I discussed his electrical experiments with both Tesla and Edison? Tesla and I definitely had more electricity between us...”

***

Most of his lovers disagree about the veracity of Taliesin’s tales -- Liam thinks not a word of it actually happened; Marisha is 100% convinced that it’s all true; Matt thinks it doesn’t matter, because any story is a good story. They would all agree, though, that they don’t want to give up those gentle moments where the world shrinks to the sound of Taliesin’s voice as they lie together in quiet contentment. Who would want to question things too closely if it meant giving that up? After all, we’re all stories in the end, and Taliesin’s is an especially good one.


End file.
